


I am SHERLOCKED

by sherlocked_canadian



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-17 03:21:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1372024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlocked_canadian/pseuds/sherlocked_canadian





	1. Chapter 1

John’s Point-of-View 

“Sherlock, you bloody idiot! What the hell is this?!” I yelled at the world’s only consulting detective. He looked over at me from his seat on the couch with a very confused look. Could he really be that clueless?  
“What are you talking about? I don’t see anything that might even require the slightest bit of concern.” He said. I gestured towards the fridge where yet another bag of body parts sat. “Oh, that. Just some materials for my experiment.” I sighed.   
“And what exactly do you need toes for?” I pinched the bridge of my nose to keep from yelling at him again. I didn’t even get an answer, because his phone rang.   
“Yes. Uh-huh. Alright, be right there.” Sherlock hung up and looked at me. “Come on John. Lestrade needs at the Yard right away. We’ve got ourselves another case.” He launched himself off the couch and grabbed his never-forgotten coat and scarf. “Hurry up!” I mumbled under my breath and grabbed my jacket, following him out the door. 

Sherlock held up his hand and a taxi came rolling down the street. They were always around when Sherlock did this, and I’m pretty sure it had something to do with Mycroft because there was never a single taxi around when I needed one. He got in and I followed suit.  
“So, do anything exciting while I was gone?” I had been staying at an old friend’s house for the weekend to get away from the constant hustle and bustle of London, and had just gotten home yesterday afternoon. When I walked in the door, Sherlock had been busy in his ‘Mind Palace’ and stayed like that the whole night without saying a word to me. Basically, I came home to a typical Sherlock.   
“No. All the cases were less than seven and I solved every single one in less than five minutes.” He stopped for a moment before going on. “What about you? Do anything worth talking about?” He really wanted to know? That was a first.   
“Yes, actually. I went to the pub with Avery and had a couple drinks, then went back to her house and watched a whole season of Doctor Who in one night.” I never would’ve gotten to do that while I was at the flat because something would always come up, usually a case.   
“That is kind of interesting. Which season?” Sherlock Holmes actually wanted to make small talk?! I tried to hide my surprise and failed against his deduction skills. “You’re surprised. I can tell. Why else would you have that look in your eyes?”   
“What look?”   
“Nevermind. You obviously don’t realize how bad you are at hiding your feelings.” Sherlock turned to face the window as I puzzled over this. How can I fool him? Just once, I’d like to confuse him.

The taxi stopped and we walked into Scotland Yard. Lestrade met us at the elevator to ride up to his office with him. Once we got there, he sat down and began to talk.  
“I have a case for you.”  
“Yes, yes. No need to state the obvious. Just get on with the details.” Sherlock wanted to be quick and to the point so he could get out to a crime scene as soon as physically possible. No surprise there.   
“Alright, well you might not be happy with this. There is no crime scene.” Sherlock stared at the detective inspector with a death glare and balled up his fists.   
“What do you mean, there’s no crime scene?! You interrupted my time at home for a crime that hasn’t even got anything for me to deduce?” This would be fun to deal with when we got home *insert sarcasm*.   
“Here’s the deal: We just need you to find somebody. They’ve been evading us for a couple months now, and we have reason to believe that they might be involved in several unsolved crimes.” Lestrade paused. “Please Sherlock. We need your help.” Sherlock smirked.  
“I thought this wasn’t your division.” Sherlock stated.  
“It is, actually.” Lestrade was getting annoyed with him.  
“Too bad. I’m not helping. Have a good day Gavin!” Sherlock turned and walked right out the door. I looked back over at Lestrade.  
“It’s Greg. My name is Greg.” He mumbled and went back to his computer. I let myself out to go find my flatmate.

Sherlock had been waiting outside for me. “Want to go get dinner? I know a good place.”   
“Is it really that late already?” I didn’t think it was, but my watch proved me wrong. “Sure, why not? It’s not like I have anything better to do.” I said and followed Sherlock down the street. 

We walked into the same restaurant that we had eaten at when we were chasing down the cabbie, and the man sat us down at the same table. Once again, he lit a candle and I had to insist that we weren’t a couple. Here’s the deal. I wasn’t as bothered by it as much as I made it look like I was. For the past few weeks, I had noticed a different feeling, one that I had never felt before. It took a little bit, but I finally realized that what I was feeling was love. But it wasn’t just any type of love. It was the unrequited kind. There was no way Sherlock would ever feel the same way about me. As it stood, he was married to his work. 

“John?” Sherlock asked, pulling me from my very own mind palace.   
“Huh? Oh, sorry Sherlock. I kind of got caught up in my thoughts. What were you saying?” He looked at me with a slightly confused look, then went back to the menu. “Have you decided yet?” I asked him.  
“Yes, actually. Have you?” I shook my head no, and he just looked straight ahead at me. “Then I’ll decide for you. I think you’d like this.” He pointed at something on the menu and showed it to me. “You’re getting this.” It actually did sound good, so I didn’t argue. The man came back and took our order, staying back for a few extra minutes to converse with Sherlock. He left, and I turned back to face him.   
“So, why didn’t you take Lestrade up on his offer? I thought you’ve been itching for a case for the past two weeks.” It was unusual for Sherlock not to take a case, even if it was less than a seven.   
“It was a stupid case that would’ve only taken me 5 minutes and I didn’t feel like wasting my time.” He said it as if it was obvious. It might’ve made sense to him, but it didn’t to me. I had started improving at my deductions, but I would never be as good as Sherlock was.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock’s Point-of-View

 

John was lying down in his room while I stayed up unnaturally late as usual. I was fighting the urge to play the violin, as I knew he was tired and didn’t want to be woken up. Of course, within five minutes I was on the chair with my violin in my hands. Earlier in the day, while John was out, I had begun to compose a song, so that’s what I played. When my bow slid across the strings, I realized that something was missing. The song just didn’t sound right! I tried quite a few times to figure it out, but I couldn’t.

“Sherlock, why are you up so late again?” John walked into the living room and sat down in his chair. This same thing happened almost every night.   
“I couldn’t sleep.” I mumbled.   
“Well, you need to. You haven’t slept in a quite a few days, and you don’t even have a case.” John was genuinely concerned, I deduced. What if he likes me in the same way? I thought, then suddenly questioned myself. What are you thinking? John doesn’t like you. He thinks you’re married to your work! Plus, you’re not supposed to feel. While I was having an internal battle with my mind, John had sat next to me on the couch. “C’mon Sherlock. Go to bed.”   
“Fine.”   
“Thank you.” I got up and walked into my room. As I laid myself down on the bed, I got a text. I really should’ve changed the ringtone, but I just didn’t feel like it. I picked up my phone and read through the message.

Do tell him already little brother. –MH

I had almost forgotten that Mycroft had eyes everywhere. Almost. He got on my nerves a lot, especially since John moved in. Thinking for a minute, I typed in a reply and pressed send.

Shut up. You’re just as bad as Anderson. Maybe even worse. –SH

I set the phone back on the dresser and laid back down to go to bed. 

 

I woke up to the sound of the tea kettle whistling. John was probably making his morning cuppa, so I decided to get up and see if he was making breakfast as well. When I walked out of my room, John was sitting in his chair against the union jack pillow, sipping from his cup. He obviously wasn’t going to make breakfast, so I decided to take it upon myself. “Do you want some breakfast?” I asked him. John looked up, surprised that I had offered to do something for myself instead of making him do it all.  
“Uh, yeah. Sure. What do you have in mind?” He asked me. I thought for a moment.  
“Eggs and bacon. Maybe some toast, if you want some.” I walked into the kitchen and placed the frying pan on the stove and turned the burner on. Opening the fridge, I grabbed the carton of eggs, package of bacon, cheese, and the butter. I placed my bundle onto the counter and started to prepare the food.

After two burned eggs and a couple pieces of charred bacon, I managed to make something edible. As a matter of fact, it actually looked really good. I gave John his plate of food and sat down on the couch with mine.   
“How about some crap telly?” John asked me, and I nodded my head. Whatever he wanted. He picked up the remote and turned it to Doctor Who. I knew this was his favorite show, and even I had grown to like it a little bit. The first doctor was my favorite, but I think John liked one of the newer ones. His name might have been Matt Smith? I couldn’t even remember. We watched quite a few episodes before John turned it off and walked up to his room. He was probably getting dressed, so I decided to do the same.

Shrugging off my blue house coat, I looked through my closet for something to wear. I grabbed a pair of black pants and a white button-down shirt. I dressed myself and went to the bathroom to look in the mirror. Ruffling my hair just a little bit, I walked back down to the living room. John was still in his room, so I picked up my violin and played until he came back down. Once he did, I stopped him.   
“We’ve got a case. Something actually above a seven. Let’s go.”   
“Alright. Let me grab my jacket.” John pulled on his black leather jacket, and he looked good. I wrapped my blue scarf around my neck and pulled on my coat. We walked out the door and hailed a cab. 

 

“Alright boys. There’s a body up on the third floor. No ID, we just took a DNA sample to St.Bart’s, and we should get it back within a few days.” Lestrade informed us as we walked up the winding staircase to the body. I nodded, getting my mind palace prepared and ready. I had already slapped on a few nicotine patches before walking out the door to get my mind flowing. John just walked behind me, looking around at the walls and floor. He always did this when we had a case. “Here it is.” The Detective Inspector opened the door to reveal the body, and I scowled. Not because of the smell, or the blood, or the body in itself. I scowled because Anderson stood over the body, looking it over. 

“Get out!” I hissed at him, and he laughed. I clenched my fists and was almost persuaded to push him down the stairs to get rid of him. Of course, John put his hand on my shoulder to calm me down while Lestrade shoved the arse out of the room. I sighed and said, “Good. Now I can work.” I pulled out the tiny magnifying glass that had made a home in my jacket pocket and began to examine the body. There was only one conclusion, and it was so obvious. “Moriarty is back.” I announced.

John and Lestrade looked at me. I could tell that they didn’t want to believe it, but they also knew not to doubt me. “How do you know?” Lestrade asked. I led John over to the body so he could also see the evidence.   
“Look. This is the exact same way every person was killed during that time before. The position, the weapon, and the location.” John nodded.  
“He’s right. This was definitely Moriarty’s doing.” This worried me, especially since the last time I had seen Moriarty was at the pool over two years ago, where he had taken John, my John, and almost killed him. I didn’t want that to happen again. Right then and there, I decided that I would get Moriarty back for what he had done.


End file.
